


The Eyes of Merlin

by SorcerersScone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2202015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorcerersScone/pseuds/SorcerersScone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry finds a mysterious, ancient potion tucked in a corner of the library, labeled 'the eyes of Emrys.' Desperate for a plan for the second task, he drinks it. Eventual Pairing: Harry/Morgana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eyes of Merlin

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted on fanfiction.net when I was very young and didn't really know what was going to happen with the story. I'm posting the updated version of this story here as it is fixed! Therefore a warning, the updating is going to be sporadic and slow.  
> A thousand thank yous to Catarina for being so patient and beta reading this for me.

Chapter 1: A Harry Situation

A warm silence like heavy silk enveloped the library. The golden flicker of magically sustained light gave the area a soft glow, which carried on even as curfew brought darkness to the room. One corner, however, remained lit. Harry Potter sat rigid in his chair, one hand in a white knuckled grip on his hair, the other holding a small, glass bottle. A rustle of paper as he turned a page in a voluminous book disturbed the silence. He further disrupted it by muttering under his breath.

“The Eyes of Emrys. Known for it’s use in medieval times for amplifying one’s magic to the point where both a focus and an incantation was deemed unnecessary. Very few accounts can be confirmed… bollocks. Who’s Emrys? Would it actually let me survive underwater?”

Harry looked speculatively at the small glass bottle in his hands. The potion was a violent gold, just like the book said it should be. The liquid glistened and rippled like a breeze on a lake, and Harry crashed back to the problem at hand: if he couldn’t find a way to survive underwater for an hour, he would lose what he “sorely missed” to the Black Lake. If the book was right, this tiny bottle could amplify his magic to the point where he could perform some transfiguration spell without having to learn it, or even know what he was doing. If, and only if, this little potion was true to the book, he could easily stay underwater. He shook the bottle slightly, watching it slosh back and forth. It was the same gold as his house colors, and he was out of options. What would a Gryffindor do?

The cork was hard to get off, stuck as it was by the gravity of ages long forgotten, but Harry couldn’t hesitate. In one swig he tossed back half the potion. He frowned when nothing happened immediately, and gazed back down at the open book.

Harry’s eyes were drawn to an asterix at the bottom of the page, which stated:

*The Eyes of Emrys potion should only be taken in doses of 5 drops or less. The effects of a larger dose are unprecedented and undocumented. The five drop dose will stay in the imbibers system for a minimum of five years. Experimentation is not recommended.

Harry froze. He read the sentence over, and over, and over once more just to be sure. Unprecedented and undocumented effects? He didn’t like his chances with that. His fists clenched, and he slammed the book shut with a thump. The window beside him rattled, and somewhere in the back of his brain he registered that it must’ve been the wind. His worried reflection stared back at him in the darkened pane.

The rattling returned, but Harry would be a fool to think it was the wind. He turned back to the book, starting to think he had gone crazy. There was nothing that could rattle that window, there was no wind, no rain, and no one could’ve stood outside it. He had to calm down. He turned back to re-read the page, but his agitation was evident. In turning, he missed the reflection in the window. His eyes had morphed into a molten gold, and in a strong chhink, the glass next to him shattered.

Harry panicked; surely that would’ve been heard. It was well past nine o’clock. He thought frantically that he should fix it, but before he could scramble for his wand, the pane was back together again.

He breathed heavily, staring past his reflection and out into the night. The night was calm, the library felt as calm and peaceful as ever. He hadn’t imagined that whole thing, had he?

No, he mustn’t have. Unless the potion he took was a hallucinogen, he had just performed accidental magic, something that hadn’t happened since the summer of third year.

Harry took a deep breath, leaning back in the tough library chair. A faint creak sounded as he rocked backwards, but soon he was losing balance. He tried to grab something, anything – his hands eventually reached the table, but as he used it to pull himself forward, it tipped too, sending his books, the rest of the potion (still uncorked) and his bookbag tumbling towards the ground.

Until they weren’t.

Harry had somehow frozen the entire table and its contents mid-fall. He looked around – the ink was tilted halfway down the bottle, as was the potion, but neither moved. Harry took a deep breath and recorked the potion, snagged his quill and inkwell, and blinked.

Without him ever meaning to, he had somehow stopped time altogether. He must’ve been mad; that was the only explanation. But no, as he began to calm, the table stopped its tilt and settled back on four legs. The two bottles were safely in his hands, and he loosened his dangerously tight grip on them before either could break.

By the time a heavy silence held reign over the area once more, Harry had settled into his chair.

Obviously, something had happened to his magic, exactly as the book had said. For better or for worse, he seemed to be stuck with this new volatile magic, and would have to learn to deal with it. The bottle, he noticed, was still in his hand.

The book hadn’t said anything about the Eyes of Emrys being legal, but it hadn’t said the opposite either. Could it be that he had taken an illegal potion, forever altering his magic? Could it be that this dusty corner of the library was the only place where the potion and any references to it could be found? For not the first time that night, he wished Hermione hadn’t had to leave.

There was nothing for it; if he had to use this new magic and didn’t have any help, he would simply have to experiment with it. Quickly, Harry replaced the bottle back in the book compartment, set the book haphazardly onto a shelf, and grabbed his invisibility cloak. Only, when he held it, he was already invisible.

Harry looked into the dark window curiously, picking up and putting down the cloak. Each time, the result was unchanged. Shrugging, Harry slung the book bag over one shoulder, grabbed the cloak in one hand, and headed off.

 

* * *

 

The prefect’s bathroom is meant as a way to relax after the long hours of work and patrolling that each prefect is required to do. It is both a reward, and a way to socialize. As such, the password changes only a few times a year. What is a place of relaxation if you can never get in it? Harry, however didn’t know this. “Pine Fresh” was a lucky guess, but he was admitted once more. He was much more efficient in figuring out all the knobs and things scattered about the tub, this time, and soon enough, he was treading in the giant space.

How exactly would one go about making water an effective substitute for air? From what he, Ron and Hermione had read, the best bet was some form of transfiguration. Harry figured that if he could effectively stop time, he could do some sort of self-transfiguration.  So what could he transfigure himself into, and still be able to think?

He sat treading for a long while, until the playful mermaid mural on the wall gave him an idea. There were Merfolk in the lake, and by the message they left, Harry was certain they were intelligent. The only thing left to do was establish how exactly he would change legs to tail and lungs to gills.

He assumed, if he were to have a tail and not legs, the change would somehow mold from his original limbs until they just… shifted, and he could power through the water as effortlessly as he could ride a broomstick through the air. And the more he thought about it, the more he could picture it, the more he could actually feel his tail beating the water down and keeping him afloat.

“Bloody hell” he whispered. “I was right.”

Harry looked down, and sure enough, he had a fully-fledged Merman tail, the same electric green shade of his eyes. He spent a few seconds just trying to process what had happened, when something began to stick in his throat. He felt like he had gargled sand, or screamed for an hour straight. Harry gulped, gasped, and finally began choking before he realized that he was breathing in air. He wasn’t a human anymore, at least for the time being, and as soon as that thought entered his mind, it seemed to twist and pull at his limbs until his head was fully submerged under it. With his first gulp of water, the  and swam easily to the deeper side of the tub, where he stilled. He knew how to survive in the lake for an hour, alright. The question he asked himself, as he took a deep breath of water and looked down at his green tail, could he even get there?


End file.
